with golden threads
death
doesn’t sprawl out on the couch

Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.

The lord has given, the Lord has taken away.

You’ll remember white—for example—Mari’s favorite.
As for Lalo, the glimpse of tiny flowers.

There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.

You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.

The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.

CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.

a type of speech

MINUTIAE

You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.

“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”

Who is a sea monster or a tempestuous ocean so that his storm may be a leviathan constrained by the tongue?

A subtle glimmer in the jasmine. A word,
its texture.

But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.

Spread out the umbilical skein. Seek the hollow in a needle’s head. Do you want me to sew it on for you? Stretch feet out on the bed. Sew it on to keep me company in the light, because I don’t need it in the dark. Sew up this unraveled sack for good. Exactly what it´s needed to play.

The lord has given, the Lord has taken away.

You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.

with golden threads
death
doesn’t sprawl out on the couch

There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.

Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.

The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.

“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”

Who is a sea monster or a tempestuous ocean so that his storm may be a leviathan constrained by the tongue?

You’ll remember white—for example—Mari’s favorite.
As for Lalo, the glimpse of tiny flowers.

CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.

a type of speech

MINUTIAE

You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.

A subtle glimmer in the jasmine. A word,
its texture.

But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.

Facing a drab mirror,
rub your eyes
like the squares of an empty market.

Spread out the umbilical skein. Seek the hollow in a needle’s head. Do you want me to sew it on for you? Stretch feet out on the bed. Sew it on to keep me company in the light, because I don’t need it in the dark. Sew up this unraveled sack for good. Exactly what it´s needed to play.

Use lipstick

to make people like you

Nothing is enough for the royalty of a ghost.

Without a wardrobe now,
You abandon that and all your other diplomas
backstage.

“Where does this blooming come from?”

From time.

“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.

Still have the scar from that bubble on the back of your wrist.

You find laps that sheltered you and the same bosoms nursed you, although he eats from the dish of lentils and what must be eaten unsalted.

The lord has given, the Lord has taken away.

You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.

The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.

with golden threads
death
doesn’t sprawl out on the couch

There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.

“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”

Who is a sea monster or a tempestuous ocean so that his storm may be a leviathan constrained by the tongue?

CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.

a type of speech

MINUTIAE

Facing a drab mirror,
rub your eyes
like the squares of an empty market.

Use lipstick

to make people like you

Without a wardrobe now,
You abandon that and all your other diplomas
backstage.

Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.

A subtle glimmer in the jasmine. A word,
its texture.

But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.

Spread out the umbilical skein. Seek the hollow in a needle’s head. Do you want me to sew it on for you? Stretch feet out on the bed. Sew it on to keep me company in the light, because I don’t need it in the dark. Sew up this unraveled sack for good. Exactly what it´s needed to play.

You find laps that sheltered you and the same bosoms nursed you, although he eats from the dish of lentils and what must be eaten unsalted.

You’ll remember white—for example—Mari’s favorite.
As for Lalo, the glimpse of tiny flowers.

Nothing is enough for the royalty of a ghost.

“Where does this blooming come from?”

From time.

“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.

Still have the scar from that bubble on the back of your wrist.

You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.

The lord has given, the Lord has taken away.

The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.

with golden threads
death
doesn’t sprawl out on the couch

There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.

CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.

a type of speech

MINUTIAE

“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”

A subtle glimmer in the jasmine. A word,
its texture.

But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.

Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.

You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.

The lord has given, the Lord has taken away.

The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.

with golden threads
death
doesn’t sprawl out on the couch

There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.

“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”

Who is a sea monster or a tempestuous ocean so that his storm may be a leviathan constrained by the tongue?

Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.

Facing a drab mirror,
rub your eyes
like the squares of an empty market.

You’ll remember white—for example—Mari’s favorite.
As for Lalo, the glimpse of tiny flowers.

CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.

a type of speech

MINUTIAE

Use lipstick

to make people like you

The lord has given, the Lord has taken away.

with golden threads
death
doesn’t sprawl out on the couch

Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.

There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.

CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.

a type of speech

MINUTIAE

You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.

The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.

“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”

A subtle glimmer in the jasmine. A word,
its texture.

Who is a sea monster or a tempestuous ocean so that his storm may be a leviathan constrained by the tongue?

Facing a drab mirror,
rub your eyes
like the squares of an empty market.

Use lipstick

to make people like you

But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.

Sara Camhaji

visualize the voice of thought.
think the image of the voice.
provoke destiny. play.
from chance, from the sigh.
understand the force that links
the image to the name.
the name is an image.
the image is a verb.
play. nothing is chance.
destiny is a game.
everything is destiny.

This site is part of the project "DON´T TAKE PHOTOS OF THE LANDSCAPE; TAKE PORTRAITS WITH THE VIEW OF THE BACKGROUND IF YOU LIKE", whose creative object revolves around the phenomenon of memory and its conceptual visualization. Thus, Sara explores the different languages on which the mind reloads its truth and the way it constructs our inner world.
About
SARA CAMHAJI (Mexico City, 1986) is a writer, teacher, and mother. Her work is a natural response to her lived experience and the emotional dimensions she has inhabited. She has told and written stories for her entire life. Poetry—the axis of her exploration—has prompted her to develop new discursive forms in close contact with inner human reality; wrenching, they open themselves to embodiment and appropriation. She has a master’s in creative writing, two children, and two published works: Maleza (Alboroto Ediciones, 2022) and this one. A selection of her poems appeared in the UNAM’s Periódico de Poesía. She received a grant from Asylum Arts in 2017 and was awarded the Peleh Fund arts residency in Berkeley, California, for 2023. Narrated poetry or poetic narrative? Sara writes in the voice of an archive with a voice of its own, like a thinking time machine, or from the dark sincerity of she-who-didn’t-know-she-had-to-live.
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